


Light From Dust (来自尘埃的光)

by MTKiseki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 全职高手 - 蝴蝶蓝 | Quánzhí Gāoshǒu - Húdié Lán
Genre: (well for TKA at least), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Character Development, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Cultural Differences, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Nationalism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Symbolism, TKA knowledge will just help with characterization and translated magic, Worldbuilding, aka I didn't let Su Muqiu stay dead this time, and inside jokes, canon up to goblet of fire choosing, cultivation, kind of cannibalized for magic theory but it works?, no knowledge of TKA needed for HP fans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24616501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTKiseki/pseuds/MTKiseki
Summary: Harry's name is thrown into the Goblet of Fire under a fourth school, with a name written in a language Dumbledore cannot read, thus why only Harry's name is called out. The contract is still valid, however, and said school has measures to know when its name is invoked.aka TKA characters end up messing around with the Western Wizarding World because why not and helping Harry survive
Comments: 25
Kudos: 159





	1. This night is cold in the kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> jellysunfish says:
>
>> dumbledore: pulls out two pieces of paper from gof  
> squinting at squiggles  
> ....and Harry Potter!
> 
> my friends are _enablers_
> 
> This idea came about me diving headfirst back into HP fics and still loving TKA enough for my muse to slam me in the head with it. I kept imagining TKA characters mentoring Harry and stupefying other characters by acting like their crazy selves. Then worldbuilding happened, and I ended up writing more for this than the Glory of the Past chapter I was trying to churn out.
> 
> Thanks **jellysunfish** for looking over this fic and giving me feedback. <3 and giving me even _more_ worldbuilding to deal with.

The clapping had just died down, everyone settling back into their seats, when fiery sparks of magic sliced through the air once again. Murmurs spread like fiendfyre, all gazes shifting from Dumbledore to the aged goblet. Flitting up like a serpent of fire, a piece of parchment hovered still in the open.

Reaching out and seizing it with nary a thought, Dumbledore stared at the scorched parchment, the inked sprawl unrecognizable to him except for a name. Squinting, for the first line did seem a bit familiar though indecipherable, he withheld a sigh when nothing came to mind. Clearing his throat, Dumbledore looked up, gaze immediately seeking out the Gryffindor table.

_“Harry Potter.”_

No one paid much attention to the electric blue gridded screen on the wall. Not much changed on it, for one, and that meant the information provided from said portion of the wall was useless. It logged all possible rankings and statuses involving the institution, and since the isolation of the state centuries ago, none of it had done more than fluctuate slightly.

A soft glow encompassed the wall, violet hued and pulsing brighter by the minute. The room was large, however, with long tables spread out intermittently, with one section deliberately separated to work with mundane technology. The size guaranteed, coupled with the prior lack of activity, meant the glow went unnoticed until a half-asleep apprentice walked in, blearily rubbing his eyes open, and nearly became blinded at the intensity.

Frowning, having never seen that particular screen react in such a way, Sun Xiang asked, “Is the global newsboard supposed to be glowing?”

Xu Boyuan looked up from where he was reviewing club requests, fingers already splattered with ink from how much he had been critiquing. “No?” He spun around in his seat and blanched upon seeing _that_ newsboard activated. “Senior Ye! It seems the institution’s been linked to a magical contract.”

Those words caught everyone’s attention.

_“What?”_

“Old Wei! You promised to stop messing with the boards. The rookies can’t handle your type of amusement.”

“How the godda- I mean, this is in no way my fault! Public relations is Chen Guo’s forte, not me.”

“The glow isn’t even centered in the East. Seems like...it’s coming from Europe?”

“You dimsum, that’s the United Kingdom; Scotland to be precise.”

Slamming her book down on the table, Chen Guo waited for the room to _quiet the fuck down._ “Su Mucheng, can you _please_ check the global newsboard and figure out what the situation is?”

Fang Rui flinched. Chen Guo’s wrath was not something _anyone_ wanted to incur. Her ponytail almost slapped him in the face when she had turned to face Su Mucheng — Chen Guo’s junior yet idol. That was still not something he wholly understood and simply chalked up as _women._ Which, truthfully speaking, was not wrong, per say, but Fang Rui was also not especially _bright_ outside of combat.

Su Mucheng maneuvered her way through the various tables to stand in front of the screen. Channeling a bit of magic into the jewels adorning her gloves, she tapped the nexus of the violet glow and watched as the light vanished, replaced with a semi-transparent notification. Double-tapping said notification, it was enlarged for the rest of the room to see.

「 New: Magical Contract* 」

_Bound to the Triwizard Tournament — Goblet of Fire_

_Champion: Harry James Potter_

_School:_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ 荣耀的銮魔法 (Imperial Magicks of Glory) 

_*Non-consensual_

“Well, this isn’t strange at all,” Huang Shaotian commented dryly, wariness in his eyes. He glanced over at Yu Wenzhou and asked, “Any thoughts, Captain?” He jerked his head toward the screen, gaze focused on the footnote and strike-through present. He knew best, out of all of them, that the screen did not originally offer such intricate details. Yu Wenzhou had once, in a bout of curiosity, broke down the runes and arithmancy behind the screen and brought in Wang Jiexi to unravel the spells. After having examined their findings in disgust, the duo had recreated the damn thing and modernized it. At least _now_ everyone could read it; Huang Shaotian could still remember the early days when it was all in _Shanggu Hanyu._

“An unwilling magical contract speaks of malice, and even the East has heard the tales about the young Potter. Not good ones, but tales nonetheless,” Yu Wenzhou mused, fingers tapping the surface of the table. “The Triwizard Tournament sounds familiar, but not enough for me to recall what exactly it is. It is European in origin, most likely. Reinstated, with some relation to that school in the United Kingdom. My curiosity is in _how_ Glory got dragged into this mess, when we have done our best to isolate ourselves from the chaos of Western Magicks. Three wars in the last century alone. Prior to that, wars were prone to cropping up at least once every century or so.”

“The West has absolutely no _order_ to them,” Zhang Jiale complained, head tilted back to stare up at the ceiling. His hair was falling out of its customary low ponytail, eyes a bit glassy. His work table held more empty cups of coffee than it did actual paperwork.

Lin Jingyan frowned, watching as Zhang Jiale stood up to grab another cup of coffee. “Did you get any sleep, Zhang Jiale?”

Beating back a yawn, Zhang Jiale shook his head. “Nah, I had patrol last night. Some of the younger students tried to do some sort of ritual, even if that’s only taught to the upper years. Their magical core isn’t developed enough for that. One of them had an older sibling and stole their notes along with their access pass. A right mess to fix. Already passed on the info to Feng Xianjun; he can discipline them.”

Qiao Yifan offered Yu Wenzhou a glass of water, brows slightly furrowed at the visible dark circles on the tired warlock’s face. “Gao Yingjie might know more. Or you can discuss with Captain Wang when he returns tomorrow? Witch Magick is closest to the most common Western Magick, so they have a better understanding and knowledge of the West.”

Tapping his cigarette against the ashtray, Ye Xiu took a long smoke, rings of it floating into the air not long after. “Are we going to interfere?”

This drew all conversations short.

“The West does not know much about us, or anything at all. Glory has wiped itself from existence in the minds of the West after the spread of Christianity made its way into the heart of China. _We_ are the heart of the East, the vessel of Order and the instrument of Chaos.” Ye Xiu watched the rest of his cigarette crumble to ash. “Countless cycles, forever returning but never remembering. Our souls are forever bound to serve Glory.”

At this, each and every one of them subconsciously touched a _[birthmark](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/the-kings-avatar/images/0/04/Glory.gif/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/340?cb=20170708101700), _ for a lack of a better word, resting on their body. The same birthmark, the same chain connecting them all together. The _King’s Star_ in the middle, to signify nirvana and their release from the trappings of the mortal realm. A gear, to represent them all, each a tapered point on the wheel, each devoting their souls to Glory and all she entailed. Crossed blades, with a spear pointed downwards, in acknowledgement of their guardian status — ready to fight but knowing restraint. Sharpened wings of gold and silver spread out from the gear, a warrior’s protection. All — in the name of Glory, as the dark calligraphy reminded whoever laid their eyes on the mark.

( _Whomever created the damned ritual to cause eternal reincarnation in order to protect Glory was a_ **_fool_ ** _. The soul remembered, but not in terms mortals could comprehend. The birthmark started off dark, filling in with color as the body and mind learned the Magick resting in their soul. As the black seeped out of the birthmark, more would be remembered. Yet each soul cursed the creator of the ritual, who did not join them in reincarnation since the idiot sacrificed their soul, blood, and magic to fuel the act — obliterating them from existence. The soul was_ **_not_ ** _meant to remember; the chaos of death was meant to reset the order of the soul._ )

It was Han Wenqing who broke the silence. “Do you mean, Ye Xiu, that you wish to lift the mist? War is on the horizon for the West, sooner than usual since they did not finish their last. It is not our duty to fight for them.” He stared into amber-gold eyes, his own dark and flinty.

“But it is our honor that this child is participating in the name of. Whether others know of us or not, the Magicks do,” Zhang Xinjie brought up, understanding but not liking what Ye Xiu had hinted at earlier. He nodded to his captain and continued, “Not our war, but a war the Magicks have waged us at. It goes against our vows to do nothing.” Adjusting his glasses, the light glinting off the frame as he did so, Zhang Xinjie stood up and offered a short bow. It was time for him to switch off with Fang Shiqian in managing the Priest Discipline of Magicks. He left the conference room with the acknowledgement of the rest and followed by Guo Mingyu and Li Xuan, both also scheduled for this shift.

Watching his fellow Black-hearted leave, Xiao Shiqin sighed, deciding upon his stance at last. He threw in, “If the Magicks themselves require us to intervene, then we have options aplenty but no retreat. We will need to do research, make plans, bring out that long dead diplomacy of ours.” 

The young man set down the box he was tinkering with, watching it unfold open like lotus petals in late summer. A quick chant activated the contraption, a streak of light emerging from its confines and slamming into an empty projector screen to the side. Immediately, cobalt blue lines began crawling over the surface, creating a map of the entire institution’s layout. Various symbols were scattered across the map, indicative of their specialization, with names appearing beneath in small font. With his latest alterations, a search engine was now available, which he instantly used to find Jiang Botao and Zhou Zekai.

“Dai Yanqi, can you go retrieve Captain Zhou and Vice-Captain Jiang from the Qilin Commons?”

A slight girl perked up. She bounced up out of her perch by the window and dashed off with a “Yes, Captain!” Her hair, maroon in hue, was for once in a bun instead of those twintails she normally favored. Just before she left the room, however, she spun around and said, “Oh, that’s right! Sister Yunxiu said there’s a delay. The _Nian_ are getting more restless and need a reminder, she says. She and Vice-Captain Li Hua won’t be back for at least another week.”

Wei Chen leaned back into his chair, a smirk on his lips. “Damn, well that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Rolling her eyes, Chen Guo ignored him and brought the conversation back around. “Not all of us can leave; we’re the keystones. A tournament between schools means delegations, but we don’t truly have a champion for ourselves, and the choosing already happened without us. This Harry James Potter is what we’re stuck with, and the Magicks will take us at swordpoint if we don’t teach him enough to properly represent us. So — who are we sending to play babysitter?”

Looks were exchanged, all of them recalling possible favors and debts that could be called in.

It was the growing crowd by the front doors that caused Harry to slow down, wary yet curious. This past week alone had been a close redux of his 2nd Year, and shaping up to be _worse_ since the other students were less afraid to cross him. Hermione, on his heels, was far less hesitant. She walked up and began asking around, and it seemed like the excitement kept the other students from kicking up a fuss at his or Hermione’s presence — for Hermione was one of the few to stay by his side. Harry hung back, near hiding in the shadows like he did whenever he was back at the Dursleys, and wasn’t that aggravating, to use those survival tactics at the place he believed was his escape, his sanctuary?

“Oh, Harry, you must come and see!” Hermione breathed out, her eyes alight with intrigue and fervor. “It began a half hour ago, on the grounds. Lights — like faerie lights or ignis fatuus — began converging a stone’s throw away from the Forbidden Forest. It’s steadily moving into some kind of ritual circle or runic array; no one’s quite sure. There is also some kind of elemental interference; a few of the upper year students have already tried to approach and got rebuffed by the wind, tripped by the earth if that didn’t stop them, slipping through a suddenly appearing puddle, or even singed by the lights, which must be some kind of fire!”

Harry blinked, eyes widening as he processed Hermione’s long-winded explanation. “And no one thought to tell the Professors?” Which was ironic considering the question was coming from him of all people, but then again, him being the Fourth Champion was already proof he was in danger again. He _did_ have self-preservation, thanks. He did not have the magical know-how to deal with ritual circles and suddenly sentient elemental forces — he hadn’t even known the latter was a thing!

His words stunned Hermione, as that had completely slipped her mind in the face of unknown magic. “I, I hadn’t thought of that! But surely someone would have noticed the commotion by now?”

“Indeed, Ms. Granger,” a sharp voice rang out from behind them. Professor McGonagall peered over their heads, her lips pursed. “The wards have already informed the Headmaster. Come along now, I believe this is something you will be interested to see.” Her boots, leather black and ankle-high, clacked against the stone floor, which was the only warning bystanders were given about her approach. Her dark moss green robes flared around her form as she strode past them, the sea of students parting for her. 

By the time Harry could see the magical spectacle for himself, bare-bones of some structure were already in place and becoming exponentially more corporeal. It was almost ethereal in nature, silvery mists reaching higher toward the sky. The longer he watched, the clearer the building-in-making became; soon, it reached higher than even the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

“Is it forming a tower of some kind?” Hermione murmured, gaze flitting from one end of the building-in-making to the other. Her mutterings were just audible enough to catch the attention of a Ravenclaw, someone in their year, Harry assumed. The girl, dark-haired and dark-eyed, glanced over, the expression on her face looking a bit strange in his opinion.

“It’s a pagoda,” the girl said, and for some reason, her eyes seemed to hold a bit of fear? “I don’t know why someone from the East would be coming all the way to Britain, however. The stories my family tells...no one has left the East for centuries. Since the Yuan Dynasty, to be specific. All borders got closed off. No one wanted those filthy Mongols to gain access to magic. My family branch was one of the few that decided to flee. We haven’t heard from the family we left behind ever since.”

Harry watched her become instantly closed off, the spirit in her dying with the last of her words. He didn’t think she intended to tell him and Hermione so much, and what she said didn’t mean much to him beyond the fact that the East had no international relations for centuries. Hermione seemed to understand a lot more than he did.

“That doesn’t make sense, though! What about all the muggle-borns? Wouldn’t the borders need to open to accept them; the International Statute of Secrecy exists for a reason, even if half of it is out of date. And —” Hermione instantly began tossing a flurry of questions at the witch, who simply eyed the bushy-haired Gryffindor with weariness.

The dark-haired — _oriental_ featured, Harry realized, like Cho — Ravenclaw interrupted Hermione. “The East _doesn’t have_ muggle-borns.”

That caused all surrounding conversations to end.

She seemed to realize that she had practically shouted her words in order to cut Hermione off. Her pale skin flushed brightly at all the attention. The Ravenclaw seemed to be waiting for everyone to go back to their own conversations, to no avail. She looked off to the side at a taller girl beside her.

Cho, Harry suddenly recognized. They shared similar features, the same slant to the eyes, the arch to the brows, though the younger girl’s hair was curly compared to Cho’s silky black locks. She had been listening in as well, and her pretty face twisted a bit like how Aunt Petunia’s did whenever she saw him.

“Sue,” Cho hissed, looking around at the crowd of onlookers. “Ancestral teachings are meant to stay in the _families._ ” Her glare scared no one off, everyone too curious to learn more about this mysterious East and their lack of muggle-borns.

Sue ducked her head, the flush now reaching her ears. “I-I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to say so much, but it was part of her family history, and she had no one to talk to about it outside her family and those like hers. Being asked about it, because she had all the knowledge, pleased a part of her Ravenclaw soul, even if she knew it would bring more trouble talking about it.

The two kept silent, neither offering up more information. After a while, the other students realized this and went back to watching the pagoda be built.

No one really paid attention to the time. Classes had already finished for the day for Hogwarts students, and even Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had been released from their classes. By word of mouth and the power of curiosity, the grounds soon became flooded with students. Those who couldn’t get a good viewing spot migrated back to the castle and found windows or balconies to view from.

The sun had continued its travel across the sky, nightfall not far off. The audience could easily make out a seven-story high pagoda now. Courtyards were being sectioned off around the base of the pagoda. At the edges of where people had been pushed back, gates began forming. At the very center of the gates, a massive double door stood, intricate designs being carved into the surface of what appeared to be some type of green stone.

Just as the pagoda fully materialized, wood suddenly filling in gaps and tiles covering eaves, Professor Dumbledore walked out of Hogwarts, the rest of the staff and guests behind him. Students parted ways for the entourage, Professor McGonagall joining the group once they reached her.

The doors of the pagoda swung open when the professors approached the front.


	2. Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty **jellysunfish** for looking this over and helping me revise <3  
> this took a while to write, simply because there is a very specific writing style and format I want to use for this fic, and certain POVs weren't agreeing with me unless at a specific hour with tea at hand. I hope you enjoy!  
> I also make no promises on updates because this fic is legit being posted as I write, as I am inspired, a paragraph/sentence at a time

Harry didn’t know what to think of the visitors. Unlike the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, they weren’t wearing the exact same outfits. Some kind of uniform, sure, but he saw at least three different color schemes from the group that stood in the gateway. It was also more muggle-like than wizarding, which confused Harry even more. The East isolated themselves from muggles, right? Sue had said so earlier.

Streamlined trousers, matching jackets with _zippers_ , button-ups beneath from what little he could see. He knew zippers were beyond wizards and witches. It always confounded Mr. Weasley when he wore Dudley’s old zipper jacket, the redhead father left wondering how the teeth connected and disconnected without magic. The visiting wizards were also _young;_ Harry couldn’t pinpoint an age, but he assumed they must be of age to have cast the magic required to create the pagoda out of thin air. 

There also seemed to be a pair of twins in the group, though their hair were parted in different directions. It was kind of them to make themselves differentiable. They didn’t seem to be the type of twins to be pranksters either, unlike Fred and George. Harry took note that the twins were standing in the middle, which hinted at them being the leaders. One of them wore a black muggle suit, too; that had escaped Harry’s notice earlier, though he wasn’t sure _how._ No one said anything yet, too busy examining the other party, so Harry wasn’t sure if his conclusions were right.

Professor Dumbledore broke the silence, his aged voice gentle yet reproaching. “Welcome to Hogwarts. I hope your journey from whence you came has been well?” The warm orange robes he wore, detailed with vivid violet vines, seemed to shimmer in the floating lights still lingering around.

The man in the muggle suit, the oriental featured wizard, was the one to reply. His eyes were piercing even from afar, the eyes more gold than amber — an unearthly shade that bore no resemblance to the amber eyes Professor Lupin had. Hair so dark it was tinted blue, cut short to frame the face, with bangs parted on the right side and partially concealing the left side of his face. When he spoke, it was with an accent, formal and polite but almost clinically so.

“Blessed by the Magicks, our travels are unhindered.” The oriental wizard paused, eyes glinting coldly. “Pardon us for the abrupt arrival. Our invitation to your Tournament had been delayed and required time to respond to. I understand that, similar to your other guests, we will be offered hospitality — bread and salt in your cultures — and temporarily gifted the land we have claimed to rest until the tourney is concluded.”

From what Harry could gather, they were here for the tournament, under the assumption that they were part of the process as well. Frowning, he pondered over the words again, but it was Hermione who clued him in to the subtleties.

“Those wizards must partake in something similar to the Old Ways Purebloods practice, something similar to Paganism. Professor Dumbledore wasn’t informed of their arrival, but it seemed they were not told they were a part of the Triwizard Tournament until later. Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, eyes worried. “I’m afraid this has something to do with your name being in the goblet. Those wizards are basically trampling all over the Tournament’s policies, insulting it! They carved out a place for themselves without a by-word, and are not even asking for forgiveness, implying that all their actions are _proper._ They’re even more arrogant than Malfoy!” Her voice had lowered significantly the longer she spoke, as if she did not want her words to be overheard. Despite her shock at the guests’ actions, she seemed more intrigued than anything.

“You got all that from what the guy said? He spoke like five sentences!” Harry exclaimed, green eyes widened in surprise.

Hermione shrugged and corrected him, “He spoke only four, the pauses just made it seem like more. He’s a fantastic orator, a diplomat of some kind. The diction and delivery was just so; I would love to talk to him about what he’s done.”

“Hermione.”

“Oh, alright. He’s basically threatening Professor Dumbledore into compliance. It’s alpha male posturing, unsightly as it is. I can’t believe Professor Dumbledore is tolerating it and has yet to do anything about it. Though, considering what Sue — Sue Li, Harry, she’s a Ravenclaw and somewhat friends with the girl you have a crush on. Don’t look at me like that; it’s not like it’s a _secret_ when you spent half the quidditch match being distracted by Ravenclaw’s seeker.”

Hermione was about to say more, but she instantly closed her mouth when she saw Professor Dumbledore finally respond after several moments of quiet examination.

“Bread and salt shall be partaken during the feast, once everyone has settled down and you grant me a name to offer hospitality to.” He spoke no more, solemn blue eyes staring at the wizard before him. The two were almost the same height, in actuality; the foreigner only an inch shorter.

Amusement — that was what flitted through those amber-gold eyes, Harry noted.

“Imperial Magicks of Glory, the academic institution a Harry James Potter is the magically contracted champion of, for the Triwizard Tournament.”

  
  
  


Ye Qiu utilized the years of patience and tolerance from being the younger twin of Ye Xiu to repress the sigh threatening to escape him. “Yes, I am very certain of my statement earlier. A Harry James Potter has been designated the champion of Imperial Magicks of Glory, chosen by the magic of the Goblet of Fire itself. It is neither the fault of the Magicks imbued within the Goblet of Fire, nor the fault of ourselves that the language the name of our institution was written in is beyond your comprehension.”

“This, this is preposterous! We were told that this is to be the _Triwizard_ Tournament, Dumbledore. A second champion from Hogwarts, under the excuse of it being a murder attempt or trickery of some kind, that was what we reluctantly accepted. _Not_ some upstart school no one ever heard of, suddenly claiming to be on par with our schools!” A wizard dressed in pure white, with a Cossack covering his dark hair, was quite vehement in his refusal to adjust to the Magicks’ interference. How unseemly.

“I fear for your wizarding communities’ talent in record-keeping if you have failed to take note of the _sole_ academic institution for magic in the East. Full isolation from the rest of the world only took place in the early 13th century. I am sure that your historic records go back farther than a mere period of eight centuries? Especially since, if I recall correctly, the land we stand on belongs to a school that was established approximately a millennium ago?”

His words were harsh, bitter, but this had been a long journey despite it not seeming so to the West. Unlike the others, who he knew from the newspapers had used more forgiving methods of transportation, they resisted the lull of timezone dissonance through sheer will, had spent _their_ night awake and working to power the ritual that would build them a temporary fortress fit to their needs. Instead of the hosts knowing of what they had invoked, their delegation had arrived seemingly out of the blue, and now had to deal with such _insolence_ and _inefficiency._

He could see out of the corners of his eyes the exhaustion cloaking his companions, the strain from what the Magicks had taken to give what they had demanded. There were reasons he was chosen over the others within his domain of expertise. His twin, who was perhaps the most their leader in all their reincarnations, could not stay in the East when they had been summoned to the West. (Never titled as such, but always treated as their King, their Battle God.) Himself, who was the shadow to the light, being far more ruthless, more cunning, more _lethal_ when balanced on the blade’s edge — who else would have gone, during a venture that could spark a war?

(Who else was so callous, so arrogant, so domineering, _unstoppable_ ; who else but him — and his twin.)

No time given for them to argue further, he pressed on. “Your decorum leaves much to be desired, if this is how guests are welcomed. I presume your own students are feeling hungered as well, having stood out here for so long that the chill in the air is visibly embedded in their robes. Come, lead the way, Headmaster Dumbledore. Discussions of the tournament can be continued once everyone is sated, the lack of such no longer impeding them from rational thought.” And if he threw a slight dig at the rude wizard in white, so be it.

  
  
  


No one said anything, but the tension in the air was enough to choke on. Worse still than the foreboding silence cloaking the Great Hall, as the strange visitors took a piece of bread sprinkled with salt to eat — and only that. Harry wasn’t sure if it was one of many more insults or not, but Hermione whispered it was awfully rude to accept hospitality and then not eat. It suggested the guests believed they would be poisoned, that the host had no honor. Harry just thought the guests ate already, or saw how heavy the food was and knew it would cause indigestion.

Harry had to learn that the hard way when he first got to Hogwarts and began eating more than he used to, more than his stomach was used to.

They were in the side chamber all the champions were herded to after the choosing, they as in all the Heads of the schools, the tournament officiates who had floo’d in, the champions, the professors who had been there last time. It felt overly crowded, to be honest. The addition of the seven guests did nothing to help, though it did give Harry more opportunity to observe the others. Now that he could properly see them, he realized the man in the muggle suit was _not_ the leader, simply the speaker. The way all the guests seemed to subconsciously turn to the twin — the one who seemed to not care about anything that happened but still had sharp eyes — the way all but the twin seemed to glance at him before doing anything, if Harry had to describe it, it was like a King and his Order of Knights.

A quick look around the room informed him of everyone else’s lack of knowledge about what he had just learned. They were all focused on the speaker, keeping quiet and simply waiting for him to make a move — though Harry was certain he was waiting for one of _them_ to make a move. He must have a lot of patience, then, because this had been going on for at least a quarter of an hour, probably more. Harry wasn’t really keeping track of the time, now that he had something related to his survival to deal with.

The guests were all fairly tall, around Professor Dumbledore’s height or even _taller._ Their hairstyles were just downright strange — their bangs were in their face more than him, and he kept his long to hide his scar. He also wasn’t sure how they got their hair to part in such a way because it didn’t look natural; perhaps Lavender and Parvati knew, some sort of cosmetics spells? All the wizards looked very put-together, though, and were definitely guys the girls would gossip about like they had Lockhart.

The wizard wearing mainly shades of green had light greyish-blue eyes and dark brown hair, with a stern look to him. His hair fell into his face a bit, but neatly if he were to describe it. It was also more tame than his own hair, which he was slightly jealous of. Harry quickly looked elsewhere when he saw those light eyes flash his direction.

The wizard wearing black with darker red accents, standing a bit farther back in the group, had more muscle than Flint, which was frightening because he hadn’t seen any wizard with such a build. His eyes were dark, and his short hair was only a shade lighter. If Harry had to choose between him and Hagrid in a physical fight, he was honestly leaning toward the guest — he looked just that scary.

Next to him was another wizard who seemed more pleasant. He was smiling at least, more so than his companions. Harry was also wondering if he should prepare for an uproar worse than his second year, once the girls get a proper look of the guest wearing mainly white with yellow and black accents. He was prettier than any girl he ever saw — except maybe Fleur, but he was certain there was something going on there. This wizard had dark hair that was either a dark brown or a lighter black, and teal-green eyes. His hair was long, brushing his shoulders but not tied back at all, with a few strands defying gravity at the very top.

Just visible past him, wearing Hufflepuff colors, was a softer-looking man. He looked more approachable compared to his companions, with hair dark enough to be tinted blue and vivid blue eyes. His hair was neatly layered with short bangs swept to the left. His hairstyle was the most normal, excluding the scary-looking wizard. By this point, Harry was wondering why so many of the guests came when earlier, as only the suit-wearing twin spoke; it made no sense, but then again, wizards often didn’t make sense.

The last one, hidden furthest into the shadows, wore white with blue accents. He had short hair, bangs parted right in the middle to frame his face, and silver-rimmed blue eyes. His hair was also just as dark, tinted violet instead of blue though. For some reason, Harry felt the most cautious of him, despite the fact that he too was smiling. It would be _less_ unsettling if this wizard didn't smile.

All in all, the guests were _terrifying._

(They turned all he knew of the Wizarding World on its head. Harry wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. His curiosity was set alight again, and he was _interested_ in their magic when Hogwarts and Great Wizarding Britain had lost its luster.)

The twin, the one dressed in red-accented white clothing, was the one to break the silence, causing all the professors and champions to swing their heads over in surprise. Harry privately thought they took too much stock in first impressions, though he did too. The twin in the muggle suit looked more formal and spoke first, so he seemed like he would continue talking. Perhaps the twins planned it that way, like Fred and George with their twin-speak and switching identities? It was some food for thought.

“In accordance to the will of Magick, Harry James Potter will withdraw from Hogwarts for the duration of his Fourth Year — and thus the duration of the Triwizard Tournament — and be enrolled in Imperial Magicks of Glory, to be taught as all students are in order to properly represent Imperial Magicks of Glory — shorthand Glory for all future references — as her Champion. Any refusal to adhere to these terms will be taken as direct violation of your standing oaths to host and participate in the Triwizard Tournament itself as professors, champions, and organizers — oaths which were promised to Magick when the Goblet of Fire had been lit and activated, all of which can be found in the runes inscribed on the Goblet or in the original treatise of the Tournament. Since Mr. Potter did not have a school designated when selected, Magick has chosen Glory to teach him and prepare him for the trials — similar to how your own schools will continue to instruct your champions throughout the year, and most likely with improved curriculums or specialized tutoring disguised as training to circumvent the ‘cheating’ clause added when professors began participating in the formation of the trials.”

Harry blanked. Yep, that went entirely over his head, and _wow,_ he did not realize Karkaroff could turn that color. The way Professor Dumbledore’s eyes lost its twinkle completely was also fascinating, as was Snape’s face. He wondered if this memory of their reactions would be enough for a patronus. And then, Harry realized everyone had turned to look at him and simply stared back at them with bemused green eyes — now they wanted his opinion?

He turned to face the leader of the guests, who was watching him with fathomless amber-gold eyes. “Will you swear that you will do as you have said, to treat me as you would treat a champion of your school?” Gasps rang throughout the room, but he didn’t pay them any attention, all his focus on the leader — who simply smirked. Behind those eyes was a beast of legend, ferocious and deadly. Those with him all faded into the shadows, eyes gleaming and lips curled, supporting their leader’s thrown gauntlet.

“We follow the will of Magick. Harry James Potter, as the chosen champion of Imperial Magicks of Glory, there is little we will not do to make sure you _win.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History Fact! Zippers were invented in 1893. Another fact, wizarding fashion (in GB) most resembles 17th century clothing. So.... zippers never became a thing. In this au fic, wizards stick with button-flys, not zipper-flys.  
> TLDR on why they aren’t in wizarding clothing or fancier ones of any kind: only YQ was supposed to come out, but then the TKA cast that came along realized they drew a crowd, a very very _very_ large crowd, and decided to send backup with him. The TKA cast were too dead tired after all the ritual magic and spellcasting that they didn’t bother to freshen up. Their clothes were comfy and warm. Their formal clothes, on the other hand, were not. (For YQ, a suit is his comfy clothing.) Oh, and despite the East seeming to be more integrated with muggle technology…...they’re not very muggle friendly. You’ll find out more when Harry and the others learn about it. I’m trying to avoid bashing, but cultural differences and biases, man.


End file.
